


get the spirit level (or the skeleton won't stand)

by haloud



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Character Study, Family, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: Mikuni likes to think that he and Misono would have been inseparable, if life had turned out differently.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title is from warsaw by dessa

Mikuni likes to think that he and Misono would have been inseparable, had life turned out differently.  He thinks this in the small hours of the morning as he lies in bed, abruptly pulled out of sleep by a nightmare.   _What if_ has never done anything to help him, but it’s harder to remember the uselessness of speculation when drenched in cold sweat and unable to catch his breath.

Staring up at the ceiling, Mikuni comforts himself with fantasies. If things had been different, maybe their father wouldn’t have been as strict with Misono.  But, then again, nothing Mikuni could have done would improve Misono’s delicate constitution.  So their activities would be confined to the manor and the courtyard, but they would make do.

Whenever Mikuni thinks about his little brother, Misono is always the grinning child from the only photograph Mikuni has of him and not the awkward, hard-eyed teenager who barely knows him.  The guilt stays at bay until he catches a glimpse of his brother again and remembers just how impossible his wishes are.

But tonight’s nightmare fades, as they always do eventually.  It takes with it the smell of blood and the sound of screaming, and to help the dream on its way Mikuni replaces it with joy—teaching Misono to ride a bike, racing alongside him as they rocket down a marble hallway, shrieking with laughter.  He’s got a good imagination, so even empty thoughts can be a comfort.

_Things would have been better._

Showing Misono how to tie a cravat correctly; making faces over pudding to entertain his little brother at one of the interminable Alicein family dinners.  Freeing him from the clutches of stuffy tutors who never move fast enough for his genius mind.  And freeing him from other things as well—

If things had gone differently, All of Love would have been Mikuni’s responsibility, not Misono’s.

It almost feels like a betrayal.  Of Misono, of All of Love himself, and of Jeje most of all, who right now sits by the window and eclipses most of the moonlight.  But it’s true.  And he doesn’t even _mean_ it as a betrayal—he’s proud of the way Misono handles his responsibilities as an Eve.  But a life lived with vampires can never be anything but dangerous and—if things had been different—Misono should never have had to face this danger.

Do you have blood on your hands, little brother?

If I could have stopped anything, I’d have stopped that.  I’d keep your hands clean.

Jeje turns from the window, and his eye catches the light.  The red gleam flashes like a beacon in the dark.  Mikuni stares back.  How many times has Jeje taken up position in his room, just waiting for the nightmares to start?  The thrashing and clawing and _sometimes_ screaming, and every time since the first time—in an alley a scant mile from his childhood home—he wakes up to Jeje staring at the moon.

The picture of Misono lives in the breast pocket of Mikuni’s vest, in a little pouch with a couple other keepsakes.  A key to a lock that was probably changed long ago, a pressed flower from the garden, a pawn from an old half-missing chess set he came across during one of his forays into the basement.  Mikuni reaches over to the chair and retrieves it now, habit making him run his thumb across the ragged edge.

This child existed.  Nearly every night, Mikuni looks into his eyes, runs his thumb across the torn side, and reminds himself.  He closes his eyes and walks once more down long, dark hallways towards the woman holding the baby, a snake winding around his ankles, the smell of blood rising all around him, mouth moving and throat straining but making no sound—

And he wakes to sweat-soaked sheets, a picture, and Jeje in the window.

That child existed, and the sharp-edged adolescent he’s become would not if it wasn’t for Mikuni.  

No fantasy can make that fact untrue.

“Do you think he knows?”  Mikuni asks.  A small rustle of paper indicates Jeje turning back around to face the window once more.

“All of Love is not free,” Jeje replies.  “If he was, the Eve would know some of it.  But All of Love has more than one master, so I cannot say.”

“Dumb question,” Mikuni agrees.

But Jeje apparently isn’t done, and continues, “The youngest Alicein would be more informed if he heard it from the only one who knows everything.”

“Enough, Jeje.”

The picture goes back where it belongs, tucked away.  Out of sight, out of mind.  But Mikuni stares instead at his vest, only a dark shape in the unlit room, and thinks:

 _I saved you._ And, _I’m sorry._

 _What if._ Mikuni rolls over and resigns himself to another sleepless night.

\--

During the day, Jeje is a constant light weight around his shoulders.  He sleeps inside Mikuni’s scarf when he isn’t needed, and that weight is sometimes a comfort and other times a choking reminder.

Mikuni twirls Abel by the hand and whistles a tune to keep himself company.  The path to the Land of Nod is, by design, a little winding and confusing.  And though Mikuni of course knows the most direct way to go, he likes taking the tourist’s road on days like this to help clear his mind.  The high notes of his song echo off the brick buildings all around them.  Jeje stirs and flicks Mikuni’s ear with his tail.  Mikuni whistles louder.

The door of the antique shop has a squeaky hinge.  Mikuni likes to leave it that way rather than put a bell over the door; this way, he’s alerted to customers coming in and the customers also get intimidated by the creepy creak of a slowly-opening door.  And, particularly applicable right now, it lets Johannes know that he should stop whatever shit he’s stirring up ‘cause the boss is back.

But before Mikuni can call out to his resident mad scientist, his attention is drawn by a man standing near the register, examining a bottle of holy water.  He doesn’t look up at the door opening, so Mikuni vaults the counter and slides over to the till end.  Leaning on his elbow, he drawls, “What can I do ya for, sir?”

“Are you Mikuni Alicein?”

“Some call me that, sure.  You’re gonna have to give me a little more before you get that privilege, however.  What’s your business?”  Mikuni leans back from the counter, resting a hand on Abel.  Jeje slithers down his arm.

The man grins, revealing fangs.  He lunges towards Mikuni, arms outstretched, ready to claw at his face or crush his throat.  But Mikuni easily sidesteps, leaving nothing in the attacking vampire’s path except a loop of rope that pulls him tight.

It never takes them very long to die.  Tsubaki tends to be drawn, unsurprisingly, to the melancholy, whose deaths are rarely easy.  Nearly all his subclass have enough blood in their past to hang themselves in no time flat.

Across the store, a row of shelves crashes to the ground.  A collection of rare, high-priced Abel replicas scatters across the floor among vampire books with cracked spines and crumpled pages.

“Jeje!” Mikuni shrieks.  Several of the books are spattered with blood, and Mikuni’s boots stick in the tacky leavings of the three other subclass Jeje eliminated.

Jeje flicks his tongue in a red puddle, unconcerned with his Eve’s distress.

“You bastard, look what you did to Abel!” Mikuni continues, hurriedly gathering up all his precious fallen cargo.

“Fulfill your promise,” is all the snake says in response.  He fixes Mikuni in his unblinking red gaze, swaying slightly back and forth.

Mikuni inhales deeply, flooding his senses with plasma and iron.  As long as he’s already smelling blood, he can allow it.  As long as the blood wasn’t spilled by him.

“Alright,” he concedes, holding out his wrist.  The fangs that pierce his vein are thin enough for Mikuni to feel barely anything at all.

\--

He dreams of his own bedroom that night instead of the basement.  He dreams of rows of bodies bound in black rope, blue and swinging lightly.  A woman in a long dress; he can’t look at her face.  A young man in a violet suit whose feet are the farthest from the floor.  A scientist in a stained white coat and pants so ridiculous that Mikuni has to vomit at his feet—because of the pants, you know, not because of the smell or because of the bodies that drift in front of his eyes no matter where he looks.

He’s awoken by a sharp pain in his wrist; he opens his eyes to see Jeje looming over his bed and his long, spiderlike fingers pressing on the bandage from his earlier bite.

Neither of them speak while Mikuni dry heaves, and as soon as he’s caught his breath Jeje takes up position beside the window.

The basement of the manor had only one window, and that was where Mikuni could always find the “monster” that lurked beneath his home.  Whatever Jeje is always looking for, Mikuni hopes he finds it.

“Five hours,” Jeje eventually says.

Mikuni laughs weakly.  “That’s not too bad.  Might even be a record.”  He slides his hand back and forth across the sheets, and the gauze around his wrist rasps against the cotton.  “The dream was different this time, though.”  Abel is sitting on the pillow next to him, where she always sleeps.  He strokes her string braids with a finger.  Would Misono like a doll?  It’s been awhile since Mikuni designed any new ones, and making a present for his little brother might be the source of inspiration he needs.

A young man in a violet suit, whose feet are the farthest from the floor.  

Maybe his usual distraction won’t work this night.

“All of Love is kind,” Jeje says.

Mikuni sits up, surprised to hear him speak.  His voice is always so quiet; Mikuni has to strain to hear.

“Kindness dies first when facing down eternity.  Sometimes I think he hasn’t realized,” Jeje continues, “that forever means forever.  Eves all die.  Even the children will leave him eventually.  But he is kind.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Family.  Stop dreaming.  Stop looking at pictures.  Family is important.”

Mikuni gained immunity to Jeje’s glares long ago, and maybe he knows that.  He doesn’t turn around.  Dawn is only a few hours away, and with it comes work.  Still, Jeje sits by the window, choosing to spend his active nights watching the moon in Mikuni’s room rather than any of the thousands of other things he could get up to.

He dreams of murder and blood every single night.  Motherless twice over, banished by his father, forgotten by the little brother he gave everything to save, protected by the “monster” he should have been taught to fear—

Maybe Mikuni should begin to reevaluate what family means to him.

There’s one number in Mikuni’s phone that has never been contacted.  As his head hits the pillows once more, Mikuni wonders what Misono is doing the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me over at haloud.tumblr.com


End file.
